


you ever wonder what would happen?

by watchtheleaves



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert has sensory processing disorder, Autistic Albert DaSilva, Character Study, Childhood Friends, M/M, Pining, am i gonna add this tag to all my fics yes i am, everyone is happy yay, everyone who isn’t race or albert is really just background, i love my kids, it’s not important but it’s there, okay now to the real tags, yknow the whole ralbert thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23071609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchtheleaves/pseuds/watchtheleaves
Summary: the painfully overdone falling-in-love-with-your-best-friend story, from albert dasilva’s perspective.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	you ever wonder what would happen?

**Author's Note:**

> #JUA: i will post ralbert in 2020 and you will stream.
> 
> i love these kids, i really do. i’m also pretty proud of this one! if you only know me from ao3, this is probably the first newsies story you’re seeing from me — if you know me from twitter, you’ve probably already read this one. either way, i love them.
> 
> also this turned into an incidental kind of character study on albert and the way his mind works because projecting is free. enjoy! :)

For Albert, falling in love felt like a punch in the gut: just as unexpected, and just as dizzying. He thought that, maybe, he’d had it coming — falling for someone is dangerous territory and he was not one to risk his few close relationships in life. He considered ignoring it all: his feelings, his emotions, his heart’s elation when he let himself wonder. Because allowing himself to hope would be a dangerous and reckless and _stupid_ thing to do, and Albert was not stupid, although he’d been called reckless before.

He considered letting it go. He considered it, and he failed.

He covered his gasp with a deep breath as a hand slid to hold his own, and he looked up and met a second pair of eyes, looking into them like they were the ones of a crazy person. Race just shrugged, he _shrugged_ , because it was _nothing_ , and smiled at him. He smiled, and Albert felt every bit of the party that went off inside his brain the first time he’d seen those dimples.

He looked straight ahead, then, instead of into Race’s eyes for another second. His palm was probably sweaty — he could easily blame it on the hot weather. Race didn’t seem to mind, though. Albert considered their surroundings, walking down the loud, steamy streets of low Manhattan with their friends, who either didn’t notice the small gesture or didn’t care. He considered the fragile but steady bubble of protection he was walking in. Manhattan was dangerous for a kid like him, but walking next to Race never felt like a risk to take. It felt like something worth taking risks for.

Albert took another deep breath and nodded to himself, deciding that yes, it was okay for him to relax into Race’s touch just this once. He’d have a lot of time to be weary in the future ahead. Race heard his long exhalation and eyed him over, but didn’t say anything. He just smirked.

They arrived Jacobi’s sooner than he’d hoped and Race let his hand go when they sat across from each other in a long wooden table. Next to Race, Jack. Next to Albert, Davey. Albert thought he’d seen Race roll his eyes at the couple that was intently looking into each other’s eyes, but he was smiling nevertheless. That was Race. He could joke about it all he wanted, and he could tease his many, many friends about their relationships, but Race would always love love, and he would always _admire_ love, too.

Then, Race looked at _him_ , and suddenly Albert wished to switch places with Finch, on his left (who was _also_ staring longingly into the eyes of his boyfriend, but whatever), or to be swallowed by Earth. He even squirmed a little, under Race’s gaze, to which Race just laughed and reached over. Albert would’ve leaned back and away from him, but he had an internal rule to never _ever_ move away from Race’s touch.

So Race reached over and fixed Albert’s hair, because Albert’s hair was always falling messily and hopelessly on his face when he wasn’t wearing his cap. If his cheeks then matched the shade of red that shone brightly in his head, well, Race didn’t mention it. He took a second to look him over before leaning back in his seat and saying something about something. God, was that a nice sound. Just Race talking.

_Fuck._

He found it natural to talk to Race. Maybe it was just that he was an easy kid to talk to, or that he’d known him for so long, but Albert never found himself doubting to jump into debates or conversations with him. It was almost a second nature, had always been, and he was glad, if anything, that that hadn’t changed after his unfortunate feelings came to surface.

Albert wasn’t a quiet kid, and he wasn’t particularly shy either. When you become a newsie before you learn how to tie your own shoes, it’s very rare that you don’t pick up their loud and warm manners. Albert was quiet and shy before, when all he had ever been was the youngest and the weakest of three brothers, but he wasn’t the quiet kid no more. Not ever since a cheeky ten-year-old had approached him, on his very first day, and laughed at his poor attempt of a joke.

They talked and laughed and teased and laughed some more until Jacobi kicked them out, and then off they were, kicking dirt and pavement on their way back. When Albert joined the others at the Lodging House, Race didn’t question it, or the fact that he hadn’t gone back home in months. He just scooched over in his bunk and Albert filled the empty space that seemed to have been made just for him. They both stared at the ceiling and noticed their friends surrendering to sleep, one by one. They had heard Crutchie’s laugh coming from the rooftop, but that had been hours ago, now, and suddenly, the Lodging House was silent.

Race shifted. “Al?” He whispered.

Albert smiled slightly, turning to face him. “Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” he said. “Wanna go out for a smoke?”

Albert didn’t smoke. He hated the feeling. He did not, however, mind watching Race do so, night after night. So they stepped outside and his feet felt cold against the metallic surface of the fire escape, _their_ fire escape. Albert sat first, letting his feet hang loosely above the sleepy streets of Manhattan. Race just observed him for a second. Then, he joined him, taking out a cigar.

They looked at the stars for a moment — Race watched the sky, and Albert watched Race. Then, Race looked back at him, and the air stilled around them.

Albert cleared his throat and looked away. Race frowned before facing forward once again.

It was hard to tell how long it had been until one of them spoke.

“If you could do anything in the world,” Albert half-whispered, “right now. What would it be?”

Race looked at him and smiled one of those wide, lazy grins. He tasted the possibility of saying something, but quickly changed his mind.

“Math.”

Albert laughed. “C’mon, Race,” he said, pushing him slightly. Race’s eyes were shining.

“What? I’s bein’ serious!”

“Sure you is,” he said. “Math can be learned, though, can’t it?”

Race shrugged. “I guess. If you’s smart.”

Albert frowned. “Who’s sayin’ you ain’t?”

There wasn’t a response to that. Albert didn’t expect one. They just looked at each other, and then away. Race was making art with the smoke that escaped his lips — not that Albert was watching.

They were sitting close to each other. Manhattan could get cold as fast as it got hot, those days. Race put down his cigarette and leaned into Albert’s shoulder, resting his head there, like the spot was his and his only. Albert froze in place, unsure. He shouldn’t. He _shouldn’t._

He leaned his head over Race’s.

Sunrise found them quickly. The morning bell woke Albert and then Race, and they both needed coffee, but neither made an effort to move. They knew they had to, but they didn’t. Race played for a while with Albert’s fingers, drawing invisible circles in his palm. Albert tilted his head away from Race’s and Race looked up with sparkly eyes. Albert couldn’t help but smile. He was too tired and comfortable to stop himself. If he was going to fall, he might as well enjoy his way down.

Albert was definitely going insane when he thought Race was leaning in. Blue eyes scanned his expression, tired and confused, before simply running a hand through Albert’s hair and standing up to face the day.

It took Albert a few minutes to do the same.

They met again downstairs, now in their proper clothing and ready to go out on the streets. Race threw an apple at him, which Albert dodged gracefully, and they both laughed. They ate in silence as they headed to Newsie Square, listening to Finch’s retelling of a crazy dream he had had. Albert laughed, every once in a while, and Race smiled brightly every time.

The Delancey brothers made puffed-up comments that never quite had the impact they expected, and Wiesel was as irritating and irritated as ever, and Albert loved it. He loved every part of being a newsie, even the bad, even what he wanted to change so badly. Being a newsie was the first thing he’d ever had of his own, not just something inherited from an older brother, not something he clenched onto for as long as he could before his old man took it away. He’d be a newsie for as long as time let him, and he’d always have his friends, and he’d always have the Lodging House. Albert had never had any _always_ to count on, before becoming a newsie.

He found an _always_ to count on when he met Race.

Selling was, to Albert, a game of who could tell the best lie. Each day, the rich got richer and meaner. It was almost as if the very decadence of society had manifested in those very streets, right in front of Albert’s eyes. If anything, going out day after day knowing that it would be harder than the day before but still keeping his head up was something to be proud of.

Some days, however, a nice headline fell upon them, or people felt particularly generous, or the weather seemed to bless them, and Albert’s pockets were a little heavier than usual as he marched his way back. He never thought of those days as good until he saw the look on Race’s face, pleased, exhilarated.

Albert found Elmer on his way back and chatted it out until he walked through the door, being immediately tackled in an embrace. His every muscle tensed within a second, and it took him another second and half of the next one to recognize Race’s scent and relax into the hug.

“Good day?” He asked. He thought he saw Elmer shake his head in laughter as he, too, made his way inside, walking around them.

“We’s rich!”

Albert laughed. “Wow, _that_ good, huh?”

Race nodded vigorously. Albert willed the glee in his eyes to never fade away. Knowing Race, he trusted that it never would.

Slowly, newsies filled the Lodging House living room to a point where the loud conversation became too much for Albert. He knew it was time to retreat when he spotted Race, across the room, looking at him with a question in his eyes.

 _You okay?_ He had mouthed, and Albert had nodded, but that didn’t stop him from making a beeline around the group of people and towards him, grabbing his hand — _again_ — and taking him upstairs. When the sudden peace and quiet did to his ears and brain what a cold glass of water does to a dry mouth, he sighed in relief. Race smiled at him and sat on the ground for no specific reason, and Albert followed suit. They submerged on a nice, comforting silence, where Albert could only hear Race’s soft taps on the wooden floor as a reminder that he was still there.

He didn’t even notice when Race shifted to put his head on his lap until he felt his heart jump inside his chest. His hand moved to the mop of blonde curls by muscular memory, and his brain knew that he shouldn’t, but when Race tipped his head and leaned slightly into the touch, he thought that maybe he should.

No one was around to see him fall, except Race. Race, who’d never laugh at him for feeling. Race, who would maybe even be there to catch him, to stop him from hitting the ground.

“You’s doin’ it again,” Race spoke. Albert looked down at him and tilted his head, waiting for him to keep talking. “Thinkin’ too loud.”

Albert gulped, flush on each cheek. “Can’t help it.”

Race rose from his position and turned to face Albert, looking at him in the eyes as if he was trying to read him.

“You ever wonder what would happen if you didn’t think so much?”

Albert’s brows furrowed. “Huh?” They looked at each other for a second that felt like many, and his eyes opened widely.

The room was dead silent, and Albert was going insane again, because he didn’t just think Race was leaning in, he felt himself leaning in as well. And as much as his brain screamed and shouted in a thousand different ways and told him to pull away, to run far and never look back, he turned each every single one of those voices down and decided to listen to the nice, unspoken feeling in his chest that allowed him to go on.

He wasn’t sure who kissed first, really, but he let himself melt into Race as his hands went to his cheeks, his hair, the back of his neck, his shirt collar, and then his cheeks again. Race pulled him closer by the waist, as if trying to eliminate any remaining distance between them, and Albert gasped into the kiss. He felt Race’s smile against his lips, his hands softly stroking his back in a way that gave him shivers. With all the time in the world, but at the same time so little, they kissed, and kissed, and kissed until they were out of breath.

When pulling away, Albert found the most beautiful sight before him and a feeling of pride mixed with the mountain of emotions within him. Race looked at him with a gaze that matched his own, amazed but sure and happy and curious and true.

Reality hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water as he heard people shuffling up the stairs, and the two stood up quickly. Elmer, Finch, Buttons and Smalls walked in moments later, and Race didn’t say a word as he took Albert’s hand and led him to the window. On his way out, Elmer raised an eyebrow at Albert’s messy hair and clothes. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d heard Finch say “ _finally!_ ” when they stepped outside.

They sat next to each other in the fire escape, and Race laughed. Albert looked at him like he’d gone absolutely crazy, but he couldn’t possibly convey more love in his gaze if he tried to.

“What?” He asked.

“If I would’a known you was gonna kiss me back, I would have kissed you months ago.”

Albert rolled his eyes, smiling. “Well, you was right.”

“Hm?” Race looked at him. God, did the moonlight do him justice. Albert just watched him for a second before speaking.

“I do think too much,” he said. Race smiled. “But that jus’ means I was right before, you _is_ smart.”

Race shrugged, blushing, and pushed him slightly. “You’s only tryin’ ta get into my pants, DaSilva.”

Albert laughed. “Is it working?”

Race squinted, then smirked. “What do ya think?”

They leaned in at the same time and Albert whispered against Race’s lips. “I don’t think _anything,_ Racer. You jus’ told me not to.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me as newsieslive on twitter, or whizzcrwins on tumblr! comments make me do a weird dance so feel free to drop your opinions and feedback <3
> 
> (if you still want the next chapter of my last marvel fic... i am so very sorry)


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